The End Is Here
by steph84
Summary: Voldemort has returned to his strongest point of power and Harry Potter knows that it's all going to end this year, one way or another.
1. Nightmarish Scenes

Harry Potter awoke rather early on a May morning during his seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His usual nightmares about long corridors which had brought him much pain and insufficient knowledge about something had kept him awake most of the night, but now, at half past five, sunlight streamed through his window, bathing him in a gentle warmth.  
  
He stretched and considered falling back to sleep before his alarm went off at seven-fifteen. But more sleep would only bring him deeper into himself and cause him not to want to wake up again for class. Instead, he crept out of bed slowly, as not to wake his fellow dorm mates, and slipped into the bathroom where he stripped and climbed into the shower. Hot water streamed down his face, washing away the sleep and the bad dreams that invaded his slumber.  
  
When he finished, he dressed for the day and headed down to the Great Hall. Hardly anyone was there yet, except for a few Ravenclaw students who didn't even turn his way when he entered the hall. He saw Cho Chang, the girl he used to like, chatting animatedly with her friends, but she, much like the other students, chose to ignore him.  
  
Not really hungry yet, Harry pulled out his Transfiguration book and prepared to get in some quick studying before the other students arrived for breakfast. During the past year, Harry had studied intensely, determined to become an Auror after he left Hogwarts. With his NEWT exams so dangerously close, there was no time to waste when it came to studying. Books could be found in every seventh year students' hands during their spare time, especially during mealtimes.  
  
Harry managed to get through one chapter before the other students began filtering into the Great Hall, muttering how hungry they were. He packed his book away, knowing that it wouldn't be long before his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, were at his side. Surely enough, the two of them entered the Hall no more than five minutes later, bickering about something silly, no doubt.  
  
"Ron, you're so naïve," Hermione said, flashing a small smile at Harry as she took a seat on the bench across from him. "Astronomy is an important part of Muggle Studies. They, too, study the stars and how they affect our everyday lives."  
  
"Whatever," Ron muttered, shoving a breakfast muffin into his mouth. He waved to show that he acknowledged Harry's presence and when he could speak again, said, "What are you doing here so early?"  
  
"Couldn't sleep." Harry shrugged to show that it didn't bother him but something he couldn't identify was nagging him. Something deep inside where he had never ventured before was telling him that things wouldn't be this peaceful and serene forever. Of course, things hadn't been wonderful since Sirius was killed almost two years ago, but Harry had learned to deal with that and how to control his emotions.  
  
Hermione was staring at him strangely. "Are you okay?" she finally asked.  
  
Harry forced a smile through his fogged brain. "Of course," he replied. "Why shouldn't I be?" But he knew very well why he shouldn't be. The recent news of Voldemort's whereabouts had the entire school rattled. Many students became unnerved upon learning that Voldemort was lurking ever closer to the school castle. It was common knowledge that he couldn't penetrate the ancient magic that protected the castle, not as long as Albus Dumbledore was around, but it was still frightening to know that he could be so close by.  
  
Most of the student body was angered when all trips to Hogsmeade were cancelled but Harry silently reasoned with this news. He knew that the Order of the Phoenix was doing everything in their power to ensure that the entire wizarding community was protected from Voldemort and his Death Eaters, but he often worried about the other members that he didn't see that often, like Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Remus Lupin.  
  
The day passed rather quickly for Harry, as Fridays usually did. He didn't have any plans for the weekend, other than studying like mad for his upcoming exams. "They will be here sooner than you know," Hermione insisted, ushering Harry and Ron along the corridors after their last class of the day. Defence Against the Dark Arts had become increasingly more fascinating since Professor Coontz had taken over in the beginning of their sixth year. She was a short, squat woman who strongly reminded Harry of Professor Sprout. No matter, she was kind and intelligent and that's what Harry wanted the most in a professor during his last year.  
  
Late Saturday evening, while enjoying a game of wizard's chess with Ron in the Gryffindor common room, Harry felt something he hadn't felt in what seemed like ages: his scar prickled. Having adapted to this sort of reaction, Harry wouldn't have let it bother him so much had it not started to throb painfully moments after that. He clutched his forehead in anguish, causing Ron to jump from his seat.  
  
"Is he here?" he muttered furiously, ignoring the looks from fellow Gryffindors. "Is he hurting someone?"  
  
Harry could only shake his head, still unsure of what the tormenting was caused by. He knew it was connected to Voldemort, as always, but he couldn't put his finger on what was happening.  
  
"You should tell Dumbledore," were the first words out of Hermione's mouth when Ron informed her of what Harry had been feeling all evening. "You know he wants to hear these things."  
  
"I know," Harry replied quietly, but he felt silly running to the Headmaster with something that had been happening for over five years. "But Dumbledore has more important things to worry about right now."  
  
Hermione looked indignant. "Like what?"  
  
"Um, the Order?"  
  
"Harry, Dumbledore wants to protect everyone from Voldemort. That's the point of the Order. And I think that your scar bothering you again, which has always been a sign of Voldemort being near or how he's feeling, would classify as something important that has to do with the Order."  
  
"Right," Harry muttered, going back to his chess game, in which he was being sorely beaten. "I'll mention it to him first thing Monday morning."  
  
Another dream plagued Harry Saturday night. He was standing in what appeared to be the Entrance Hall to Hogwarts, but had the most unwelcome feeling of the Dursleys' home. People were rushing about so quickly that their solid forms soon became colourful blurs. No one seemed to be paying any attention to him, whatsoever, yet Harry felt he had something important to tell them."  
  
"I have to warn you," he kept saying over and over again, but no one stopped to pay attention to the lost boy in the middle of the hallway. Suddenly, as if time itself had slowed down, the crowds began to disperse and Harry found himself staring up a long, dark, winding staircase. Feeling the inner curiosity fill his soul, he began the climb to the top of the stairs, which seemed to reach on forever.  
  
It was suddenly very cold. When Harry looked up to see the source of the frigid wind blowing down on him, he was surprised to see the sixteen- year old form of Tom Riddle standing above him. Riddle had been staring off into space but when Harry noticed him, he turned ever so slightly to glare right into Harry's eyes.  
  
"Soon," he said, a wicked smile spreading across his face. "Soon."  
  
"Harry!"  
  
The fierce voice made Harry jump out of his sleep. He glanced around the dorm room, one eye still half shut. Ron was sitting on the edge of his bed, wringing his hands in an obvious attempt to stay calm.  
  
"You were muttering in your sleep," Ron said nervously. "I had to wake you up because you were so loud."  
  
For the first time, Harry noticed that Dean, Neville and Seamus were also staring at him from their beds with eyes of wonder. Harry shook his head to rid his mind of the eerie dream. He could still feel the cold, clammy presence he had felt on that staircase and pulled his blanket closer to his chin in a desperate attempt to warm himself.  
  
"I'm fine," he said, rolling over to face away from everyone's prying eyes. "Just fine." 


	2. Secrets

A/N: I forgot to mention that all characters are the property of J.K. Rowling. I own nothing.  
  
For the next three days, Harry debated with himself on whether or not to tell Ron and Hermione about what he had dreamt. Normally, his dreams left him feeling uneasy, but nothing as strong as what he had felt after his dream about Riddle at the top of the staircase.  
  
"They've been with you through everything," he reasoned with himself. "Why not tell them this?" But the answer was plain: their fear would strike anger in his heart. He couldn't help but forget the time during his fifth year when he discovered that the dreams he had been having then were just images Voldemort had put in his mind. When his friends heard that he might be possessed by Voldemort, they had instinctively set themselves apart from him, of which he couldn't blame them. Why frighten them even more?  
  
Much to Hermione's disappointment, Harry neglected to talk to Dumbledore Monday morning. By Wednesday afternoon, she was in a right state, fit to be tied. "You promised," she hissed at him during their Transfiguration lesson. It was most unlike Hermione to talk during a class, so Harry figured it must be important on her mind.  
  
"I will tell him," he muttered back, keeping his eyes on Professor McGonagall while he spoke. "Just not now."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes, refusing to argue anymore. Ron smiled briefly at Harry, showing his support of his friend, but Harry thought he saw a flicker of support for Hermione, too.  
  
Harry awoke the following morning with the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He had another rough night's sleep and was tired to begin with, yet all through his classes, he couldn't help but feel an uneasy feeling that made him think something big was going to change.  
  
Hermione pestered Harry and Ron all through the evening about their exams. "You have to study and do well!" she insisted. "If not, you'll never get a good job."  
  
"Who cares?" Ron muttered under his breath while pouring over his Transfiguration text once more. His eyes had become glassy and he looked exhausted. Despite his own feelings of fatigue, Harry felt sorry for his friend. Hermione wouldn't leave them alone, parading about behind them at the library table like a guard, protecting the knowledge they let into their brains. After two hours of studying, Harry felt he had had enough. He stood up and marched out of the library, ignoring Hermione's calls.  
  
He went straight to his dorm where he threw his books on the floor and fell face first onto his bed. With his face pressed into his pillow, he struggled to breathe, but enjoyed the tightening sensation that was growing in his chest. "Maybe you are crazy," he muttered to himself. "Maybe everyone's right. You should just give up now."  
  
So many thoughts raced through his mind. Voldemort was on the loose and worse than ever and it seemed that the only thing the entire castle was worried about was exams. He knew that Voldemort had been back for three years now and by that time, people were starting to, not relax, but deal with the fact. Yet Harry couldn't shake it from his mind that there was something lurking in the shadows that threatened to blow them all apart.  
  
The weekend arrived quickly and Harry found himself sitting at the breakfast table, still sleepy, while Hermione chanted, "You must study. Getting good grades is important, especially during our last year here."  
  
"You would think we would know that by now, eh?" Ron asked, raising his eyebrows. "I mean, Harry and I have also been here for seven years."  
  
Hermione just shrugged. "I know that. I just think that sometimes you guys need a brief reminder of why you're here."  
  
A great smile spread across Ron's face. "So one day soon I can grab my broom, kick off and leave this place for good, just like Fred and George!" He elbowed Harry in the side. "You're with me, aren't you, mate?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Yeah."  
  
Hermione shook her head disapprovingly. "You are so dense," was all she said.  
  
A large owl swooped overhead and dropped a letter in front of Harry, snapping him out of his daydream. "What's this?" he asked, picking it up and opening the envelope quickly. He didn't recognize the tiny scrawl at first, but noticed the bottom of the note was signed, "Remus Lupin".  
  
Hermione and Ron gathered closer to Harry and they read the note together. "Harry, all hell has broken loose here. I can't say much, but I will be at the school this afternoon to fill you in on the rest. I'm sure Dumbledore will be telling you soon, if he hasn't told you already."  
  
"Told us what?" Ron questioned aloud to no one in particular. "What's he going to tell us?" He looked at Hermione expectantly.  
  
"Don't ask me!" she cried indignantly. "I'm not a mind-reader."  
  
"Something to do with Voldemort, no doubt," Harry said in a tired voice. He was so sick of hearing about the hell that Voldemort caused; enough was enough. "I'm going back upstairs to lie down for awhile."  
  
"But don't you want to hear what Dumbledore is supposed to tell us?" Hermione asked, holding up the letter, which Harry had cast aside when he stood up. "He could be telling us any minute."  
  
Harry shook his head wearily. "I'm sure, if it's such big news, someone will tell me." And with that, he left the Great Hall, nearly in tears because of the frustration that burned inside him. He wanted so desperately to care what was happening and what was going on around him, yet he couldn't bring himself to care all that much. It just seemed that there was no hope for him, so why bother with possibilities? 


	3. Poor Percy

Harry slept for the better part of the day and awoke only when Ron burst through the dorm door. "Harry! Wake up, Harry!"  
  
Sitting up groggily, Harry rubbed his tired eyes. "What?" he asked, somewhat irritable for being disturbed when he was sleeping a virtually dreamless sleep. "What is it?"  
  
The fear in Ron's eyes made Harry stop from scolding his friend. "You were right," he said fearfully. "It is You-Know-Who. He's raided the Ministry, him and his Death Eaters. The majority of the Ministry workers," he swallowed hard, "are dead."  
  
This made Harry sit up and take notice. "What about your dad?"  
  
"He wasn't at the Ministry when it was raided," Ron said, relief sweeping across his eyes. "Thankfully. But still, Cornelius Fudge, Ludo Bagman, Kingsley Shacklebolt, all dead."  
  
Another thought struck through Harry's confused mind. "What about Percy?"  
  
Ron went pale. "No one's heard from him yet. But if Fudge was killed, then," Ron's voice trailed off. Harry knew that he and Percy had their differences, but to think that his brother could be dead must be unbearable.  
  
"How did you find all this out?"  
  
Ron swallowed hard. "Dumbledore called Hermione, Ginny and me to his office just about an hour ago. We nearly went mad all day, wondering what this news was. He said that he wanted us who knew about the Order to be the first to hear it, especially directly from him." Ron stopped to take a breath. "And then he told us that he knew Lupin had sent the letter and he wanted us to hear it from him. Then he told us." Ron's face was paler than Harry had ever seen it before and Harry felt the familiar feeling of dread pop up into his throat. Was this the beginning? Or was it the end?  
  
It was nearly seven when the whole school had gathered in the Great Hall for supper, but food was the last thing on anyone's mind. Word had spread rather quickly around the school and everyone was sharing worried glances. More panic spread when Dumbledore failed to appear at the Head Table to give his nightly speech. Instead, Professor McGonagall stood in his place, raising her hands to signal silence.  
  
"I suppose you've all heard the news by now," she said, her eyes steely-cold but her tone trembling with fear. "And I know it's quite frightening, but you must know that the reason Dumbledore is not here is he went to deal with the problem head-on."  
  
Hermione whimpered and Harry glanced at her. She was biting her nails and she, too, was white as a ghost. The other Gryffindor students remained in a mournful silence throughout the meal, none of which were very hungry. In fact, the only house that didn't seem affected by the news of the raid was Slytherin. Draco Malfoy sat, happily chatting with anyone who would listen, about how his father was head of the raid.  
  
"After the Dark Lord only," he boasted. "Other than him, my father organized the entire thing."  
  
"Like that's something to be proud of," Harry muttered. They were standing in a group, trying to push their way through the Hall towards the exit. Malfoy turned when he heard Harry's comment.  
  
"Dumbledore will be next, Potter," he sneered, looking down his nose at him. "And I suspect you won't be far behind. The Dark Lord always hated you."  
  
Fury burned in Harry's eyes as he pictured the fallen Ministry members. As dull as they were when Voldemort first returned, they didn't deserve to die. "He only hated me because I'm his equal," Harry spat, stepping closer to Malfoy. "And don't you ever forget it."  
  
Fear flickered in Malfoy's eyes. He knew of the prophecy; his father had told him all about it. He knew that, when provoked, Harry Potter could be just as vengeful and dangerous as the Dark Lord. Yet, he still managed to glare at him before turning away to brag some more.  
  
"Harry, you should write Lupin and tell him that we've heard the news," Hermione said quietly as they filtered into the hallway. "Let him know that we're alright here."  
  
"Yeah," Ron chipped in. "I've got to send a letter to my parents, ask if they've heard anything about Percy."  
  
Harry stared at his friend. Although his voice was steady, there were hidden tears in Ron's eyes. Harry felt such anger directed at someone that could cause this much pain for such a group. He knew that the end was coming soon, but who would it be that was sacrificed? The prophecy that Harry had heard two years ago stated that either Harry or Voldemort must be killed. They could not both live. One of their lives was drawing to an end. But who would it be in the final showdown?  
  
The very next morning, Ron received an owl from his father saying that Percy Weasley had been among the dead counted for at the Ministry. Upon hearing this news, Ron remained silent throughout most of the day. Harry didn't know what to feel; it was no secret that Percy harboured resentment towards Harry for all that had happened, but Harry never wished him ill. Yet, when it was confirmed that Percy was dead, Harry offered to go to the memorial services with his friend.  
  
"You don't have to," Ron said, his eyes downcast. He had not yet cried, from what Harry knew, but he almost wished he would. It would at least show that Ron was feeling some emotion and was not entirely numb to the events happening around him. "It's just going to be a quiet service at the Burrow."  
  
"How's your mother?"  
  
Ron shook his head. "In a pretty bad state. It was horrible enough when Percy stopped talking to us, but now," Ron's voice trailed off into silence. The two friends sat in the dull quietness of the common room until the late afternoon when Ron announced that he was going to write his parents and make plans to arrive back home. "We might as well Apparate," he told Harry just before heading off to the Owlery to find Pig. "Now that we're of legal age."  
  
"Right," was all Harry said.  
  
Hermione arrived in the common room shortly after Ron left and had heard the news from Ginny. "It's so sad," she said, sitting down heavily in the chair across from Harry. "I never like Percy much, but now that he's gone, I feel really bad." She shook her head as if trying to wash away the memories of Percy.  
  
"I'm going with Ron to the service at the Burrow," Harry said. "Are you coming?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "I already promised Ginny I would."  
  
"How is she?"  
  
"Okay, I guess." She shrugged. "I don't think it's fully set in yet. I met Ron on the way out and he was going to see her after he got back from the Owlery."  
  
It was Harry's turn to nod. The threat of Voldemort had been fading over the past year, but now it seemed like time had never passed. When Voldemort struck, he knew he could strike those closest to Harry and hurt him the most that way. Even though Percy wasn't close to Harry, it was still someone he knew. 


	4. Trying Times and Tears

Early Monday morning, before the rest of the castle awoke, four bodies crept towards Albus Dumbledore's office. He had graciously allowed them to use his fireplace to travel by Floo powder. In his grief-stricken mind, Ron had forgotten that Ginny wasn't of age yet.  
  
They travelled one by one, Harry going last. Dumbledore had yet to return but had sent them an owl late last evening to give them permission to use his office. The last sight Harry saw before travelling through the emerald flames was Fawkes' brilliant head bowing, as if paying his last respects to the fallen Weasley.  
  
Harry was greeted by Mrs. Weasley, who had been hugging and kissing her children only moments before he arrived. "Harry, dear," she said, smiling at him and holding him at arm's length. It had been quite some time since he had seen her last and he had grown to, not only match her height, but tower above her by a few inches. Her eyes were red and swollen and she looked exhausted. "Thank you so much for coming."  
  
All around them milled people, many whom Harry had never seen before. Mundungus Fletcher was hanging around the doorway, as if waiting for someone to appear. He kept peering around the doorframe, almost nervously, but stopped when he saw Harry looking.  
  
Most of the people in the house were those from the Ministry that happened to escape the raid. Harry heard many of them crying, so relieved that they had been spared, but so upset because so many of their co-workers and friends had been killed. "What are we going to do now?" asked one frightened witch that Harry overheard. "We have no jobs and You-Know-Who's only one step away from total domination!"  
  
What that step was, however, Harry never got to find out. Hermione approached him with tears in her eyes. "Fred and George just arrived," she told him before hurrying off to comfort Ginny some more. Harry looked in the direction of the door and saw a solemn Fred and George shaking hands with Mundungus Fletcher. Neither of them appeared to have been crying, but they looked upset, nonetheless.  
  
Harry never got a chance to talk to them, however, because the ceremony started before he could do much else. He sat in between Ron and Hermione, with Ginny, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in front of them. The Weasley's living room had been re-arranged to form a makeshift chapel and the silence only enhanced the melancholy of the event.  
  
The man who stood at the front of the provisional chapel introduced himself as Ferdinand Weasley, Arthur Weasley's brother. "I am very saddened by the news of my nephew's death," he began, pausing softly to allow Mrs. Weasley's sobbing to fill the room. "However, as tragic as this may be, I am also incredibly angered that the Dark Lord has gotten away with taking someone so close and dear to us. We have all lost friends and family during this tragic time and it is now that we must bind together to fight the Dark Lord and his troops, to show him that we will not back down without a fight. We will show him that we, alone, can remain just as powerful as he. And we will win this battle."  
  
There were a few cries of sorrow as these words were spoken and Hermione leaned over to whisper to Harry, "He reminds me of Dumbledore and his speeches!"  
  
Harry only nodded. He continued to listen as Percy Weasley's friends and family members each recalled something about him. Ron said a few words about how Percy had been his guide when he first got to Hogwarts, but when Ginny was presented with the idea of speaking about her brother in front of the whole crowd, she shook her head and buried her face in her mother's side, sobs escaping her lips.  
  
When the memorial was over, Harry leaned over to whisper to Hermione. "I thought Percy's body would be brought here before burial."  
  
Hermione immediately looked uncomfortable. "Well, from what I've heard, there wasn't much left to bring back." She grimaced at the thought. "It wasn't pleasant."  
  
Harry felt his stomach lurch. How incredibly awful. Poor Percy couldn't even have a proper burial, all because Voldemort was angry with the world. How extremely unfair. Harry found himself feeling more rage for the one person that had wanted him dead since the day he was born than he ever had before. Voldemort's deal was with him, not with the Weasleys. Why couldn't he take Harry instead? Then Harry would be dead, he wouldn't care anymore. Maybe then Voldemort would leave others in peace.  
  
The four students stayed at the Burrow for four days. When they returned to school on Friday morning, they were surprised to find the castle in a state of panic. "It's none of your business, Potter!" Snape snapped when Harry asked him what was wrong, but Professor McGonagall shot Snape a dirty look.  
  
"The Headmaster is missing," she said softly, a trace of panic in her voice. "We have tried to contact him at Grimmauld Place, but they informed us that he left there three days ago. We have not heard from him since."  
  
"Have you sent an owl?" Hermione questioned, coming up behind Harry. "I'm sure an owl could find him. Or how about Fawkes? He would know for sure."  
  
McGonagall shook her head. "We've tried. Fawkes returned, bearing nothing but tears in his eyes." Her stern eyes misted over. "We're not sure what that means."  
  
Harry's mind went blank. Surely if something had happened to Dumbledore, they would be the first to know. The Order would find him soon and bring him back to the castle. "We need you, Dumbledore," Harry said quietly to himself as he walked solely down the deserted hallway. "Now more than ever."  
  
Days passed with classes continuing, but very few students turned up for them. Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent hours in the Gryffindor common room, awaiting news from Grimmauld Place. Hedwig arrived several times a day with letters from those at Sirius' old home clutched in her beak.  
  
"Hang tight, guys," Hermione read aloud from a letter from Remus Lupin. "Dumbledore's survived a lot worse than this before. I'm sure he'll turn up soon."  
  
"Tonks says she hasn't known Dumbledore as well as we all have but she's convinced he's fine," Harry said, tossing another letter onto the table by the fire. "She's always so optimistic."  
  
"Here's a change for you," Ron said, brandishing the letter he held from Moody. "Moody says that Dumbledore could be dead for days before we'd learn of the news. Chipper fellow."  
  
Hermione sighed, tears appearing in her eyes. "It's so tiring," she whimpered, leaning back into her chair. It seemed to engulf her before their very eyes. "I just hate not knowing what's happening. I hate it!"  
  
"We all do," Harry said comfortingly, "but we've got to hold tight, like Lupin said. I'm sure Dumbledore will be back soon and everything will return to normal." He managed to ignore the sharp shooting pain in his forehead while Hermione gave him disapproving looks.  
  
"I hope you're right, Harry," is all she would say. "I hope you're right."  
  
Since all trips to Hogsmeade had been cancelled since the Ministry raid, the entire school was on pins and needles trying to find ways to pass the time. Even Hermione had given up on studying for exams. "There will be no exams if Dumbledore isn't here," she said. Harry thought it wasn't so much the absence of Dumbledore, but the recent attacks that would prevent any exams from being carried out.  
  
Ron and Harry were sitting down by the water on a day in late May, five days after the disappearance of Albus Dumbledore. They were discussing recent events without mentioning Voldemort's name for fear of causing a riot in the schoolyard.  
  
"I wonder what's going to happen next," Ron wondered aloud in a hushed voice. He looked fearful at the prospect of being faced with something serious to deal with and Harry felt somewhat sorry for his friend. "I mean, the Ministry's been raided and Dumbledore's gone. Isn't that what You-Know-Who wants?"  
  
Harry nodded curtly. "Of course. He wants all the power he can get his greedy hands on. Why wouldn't he?"  
  
Ron shook his head. "Not that. But didn't McGonagall say to Snape that the only reason Hogwarts was safe from You-Know-Who is because of Dumbledore? Well, now what will happen because Dumbledore can't be found?" Ron's eyes were wide with fear and Harry thought his friend wasn't much further from bursting into scared tears. "What if we go into Transfiguration one day and You-Know-Who's standing at the front?"  
  
Harry laughed. "Ready to what, teach us?" Ron's hurt expression made Harry regret his laughter. "Look, I'm sorry, Ron, but let's face reality. Voldemort isn't going to come wandering into Hogwarts with the Order still on his trail. Dumbledore or no Dumbledore, the Order of the Phoenix isn't going to let Hogwarts be taken over by Voldemort. He's not in hiding anymore, but he certainly isn't walking down the street, either."  
  
"You're right," Ron said, looking a little more relaxed. "Besides, Dumbledore will be back soon. He will," he insisted, as if trying to convince himself. "And then everything will be fine again." He smiled widely.  
  
Footsteps behind them made them turn in that direction and they saw Hermione walking across the grass towards them. She had a funny look on her face, like she was caught between crying and laughing, and her eyes were glassy and fixed on some distant point. She was walking somewhat erratically, almost like she had had too much to drink.  
  
"Hermione?" Ron questioned as she got closer to them. She looked down but her expression didn't change. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Dumbledore's dead," she told them, her voice almost questioning, like she had to ask herself. "They found him, up in the mountains, somewhere near a cave." She swallowed hard. "Just a few hours ago."  
  
Harry jumped to his feet, unaware that he was standing. He marched up to Hermione's face, and stared into her glassy eyes. "What?" he asked carefully.  
  
Her lower lip was trembling. "I know," she said, coming out of her daze slowly. "I know, Harry, but it's true. McGonagall just told me. She's crying, Hagrid's crying, even Snape's walking about with swollen eyes. It's true, Harry, and there's nothing we can do about it!" Her voice reached a shrill, hysterical pitch and Harry had to shake her by the shoulders, perhaps a little too violently.  
  
"What?" he kept asking, walking around the water's edge. Then he smiled. "How, Hermione? How can Albus Dumbledore be dead? He's the greatest wizard that ever lived. How?"  
  
Hermione shook her head, her tears flowing freely now. "I don't know, Harry. He just is. They don't even know what killed him yet."  
  
Ron was still sitting quietly, having not moved a muscle. His jaw was twitching and for a brief moment, Harry considered the fact that Ron had lost his Headmaster and brother all within a month of each other. However, he didn't have too much time to feel sorry for his friend. His own grief was welling up within him and he felt the incredibly need to release it before it destroyed him.  
  
He turned quickly and began marching up to the castle. Along the way, he passed several students who were crying openly, having just learned the news themselves. He could hear Hermione and Ron (who had seemed to come to life) hurrying after him but that only made him increase his speed. He reached the gigantic door and heaved it open, following the sounds of students' footsteps until he reached Professor McGonagall's office. He thrust open the door without knocking and stepped up to her desk where she was sitting with a tissue held against her eyes.  
  
"Where is he?" Harry demanded, hearing Hermione and Ron hurry in behind him. "Where is Dumbledore?"  
  
McGonagall lifted the tissue from her face and Harry saw that her eyes were swollen and red. She looked at him almost pityingly and reached out a hand, the only true sign of affection Harry had ever seen her use. "Oh, Harry," she said softly, grasping his hand off the desk. "Haven't you heard?"  
  
"I've heard," he said bitterly, snatching his hand back, "but I don't believe. Where is he?" Furious at the silent tones in which the three people in the room were treating him with, he swiped at the pile of papers on the corner of McGonagall's desk. They fluttered to the floor in silence. "Where is he?" he chanted, walking around the room, swiping at odd objects with his hands. "Where is he? Where is he? Where's Dumbledore? Where is he?"  
  
"Potter!" McGonagall stood up but her voice was not angry, just firm. "I understand how you feel but if you can't accept the news with respect, then please leave until you can do so."  
  
Harry looked at the mess he had created. Several of the glass figurines that were sitting so primly on the shelf only moments before when he entered had shattered on the floor of the office. "Just like Ministry members," Harry thought to himself. "The Order will be next, no doubt. It's a chain reaction."  
  
Slowly, Harry backed out of the room. Hermione made a move to go after him but Harry could hear Professor McGonagall instructing her to leave him alone. "He needs his own time," she said softly.  
  
How true that was. For seven years, Harry had looked up to Dumbledore like the grandfather that he had never had. He had trusted him, believed in him. Dumbledore had been truly immortal to him. He was always there during Harry's time of need, to rescue him when he needed it and to save the day in any way possible. He was infallible. How could it be that he was dead?  
  
Harry didn't realize he was crying until he felt a warm tear drip off the end of his nose. He wasn't walking anywhere in particular but soon found himself in front of the stone gargoyle outside Dumbledore's office. He slid to the floor with his back to the wall and leaned his head back against the cool stone. Any moment now Dumbledore would come down those stairs and the gargoyle would leap aside for him. He would look down at Harry and smile and say, "What are you doing out here, Harry? We must get to the supper feast. No time to waste, you know." And Harry would stand up and follow his Headmaster and friend down the hall.  
  
But no such noises came. Silence rang through the hallway and it was deafening. Harry had half a mind to begin singing just to break the silence. Maybe the school song would be nice. Maybe, in a few minutes.  
  
The next time he opened his eyes, Hermione was sitting cross-legged beside him and Ron was pacing the hall in front of him. Upon hearing Hermione's soft sobs and Ron's quiet chants of, "It's going to be alright," Harry wished he hadn't opened his eyes at all.  
  
"You're awake." It was more a statement than a question as Hermione stopped crying long enough to address Harry. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"How do you think I'm feeling?" Harry shot back, jumping to his feet. "And stop muttering!" he hollered at Ron. "Can't you hear that? Listen!" He stopped moving about as Ron and Hermione shared a worried glance. "Silence, guys! Dumbledore should be coming down those stairs any moment, but he won't! He should be sitting at the High Table tonight, eating dinner, but he won't. He should be watching over me for the most critical part of my life, but he won't. He won't ever do these things again because he's gone for good and there's not a damn thing I can do about it!"  
  
He stopped and took a breath, ashamed at his outburst, but he did feel better. He sighed and sat back down on the ground, his head in his hands. Hermione crawled over to him and wrapped her arms around him as he cried softly, then louder. Ron hovered above them uncomfortably, fighting off his own tears. The silence around them continued to ring out. They were truly alone now. 


	5. Another Loss

The entire castle waited with baited breath during the days following the news of Dumbledore's death. Harry knew that the majority of them were waiting for Voldemort to burst through the door any second. But nothing of the sort happened. June came in with rainy weather, which much suited the moods of the students inside the castle.  
  
Professor McGonagall managed to upkeep the school running smoothly, but under somewhat strain and pressure. She could often be found in the corridors, sobbing quietly into a handkerchief. Exams were cancelled for the year, leaving the students with nothing but their common rooms to keep them occupied.  
  
There was a memorial service to be held for Dumbledore in the Great Hall on the third day of June. The last day of school was scheduled for June 27th, but with classes being cancelled, many students were planning early departures. "I'm not forcing anyone to stay," Professor McGonagall had told them, "but I think it's highly necessary that we be together at this time."  
  
Harry, in no hurry to leave the school that had become his home, planned on staying all summer if he could. He, Ron and Hermione sat solemnly in the Great Hall as Professor McGonagall began the memorial service with kind words.  
  
"Albus Dumbledore often said that this school was his life," she began. "And indeed, he gave his life for the fight against the Dark Lord. He was found in a cave in the mountains days ago, apparently dead from a battle with someone or something. He will be greatly missed," she ended abruptly, tears overcoming her speech. She sat down, dabbing at her eyes as each of the teachers took their turns in saying something nice about Dumbledore. Professor Sprout began sobbing heavily on several occasions and Professor Flitwick maintained that the entire school should remain until the official end of the term.  
  
"We need each other," he said, laying a hand on McGonagall's shoulder. "As only each of us knew Albus Dumbledore as well as we did."  
  
There wasn't a dry eye in the room by the time the memorial was over. Harry left the Great Hall feeling drained and empty. There was almost nothing else to keep him here, yet he felt a strong bond with the very walls that had sheltered him from so much the past seven years that he couldn't bring himself to leave just yet. "I could stay here all summer and next year," he told Hermione and Ron back in the common room. "It wouldn't bother me."  
  
"I think we all feel that way," Hermione replied, looking around the common room. "No one's exactly sure when to leave and no one wants to be the first." She took a deep steadying breath. "It's the end of an era, that's for sure."  
  
Ron remained fairly silent throughout the entire day. Losing Percy and Dumbledore within practically the same week was too much for him and Harry felt incredibly sorry that he couldn't be of more support to his friend. But he was having trouble dealing with all the sudden changes on his own. And the incessant throbbing his scar was providing did not help matters; it only made them worse. He had the horrible feeling that time was closing in on him, no matter how silly Hermione made it seem.  
  
Four days after Dumbledore's memorial service, Harry had a dream so frightening and so realistic that he woke up nearly in tears. As he gulped down a glass of water, his mind replayed the dream over and over repeatedly. He was in the mountains somewhere, surrounded by trees. There was a dark cavern up ahead and Harry knew that something in there was important to him. He needed to be in that cave. But every time he tried to make a move for it, an unknown, powerful force would pull him back.  
  
Then there was the haunting voice calling him from the cave. "Run, Harry, while you still can! There's still time! Get out now! Just remember, nothing is as important as running right now! Just get out!"  
  
Even after he woke up, he could still hear the voice in the cave. It reminded him so strongly of someone he knew, but he couldn't quite say whom. It almost sounded like Dumbledore's voice, but that would be too uncanny, wouldn't it?  
  
Noticing that the other four beds in the room were silent, Harry crawled back under his covers, feeling slightly chilly in the warm room. He took great care in putting his mind at ease, yet in great defence, for he knew what secrets his dreams could hold. He didn't need any more prophetic dreams; he had had enough to last him a lifetime.  
  
When he awoke next, the mood in the room wasn't much calmer than it had been when Harry had awoken hours ago. Great thunderous claps were being announced outside the tower window and Harry saw that Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus were gathered around it in horror.  
  
"What is it?" Harry asked groggily, tugging at his hair to stay flat on his head. He didn't feel like getting out from under the covers because of the dropping temperature of the room, so he sat up in bed, shivering from the cold. "What's happening?"  
  
Ron was silhouetted against the dark sky outside and his hushed voice gave Harry chills not due to the temperature. "Outside, Harry. It's happening. Just like we feared." When he turned to face his friend, his cheeks were streaked with tears. "It's You-Know-Who."  
  
"What?" Not caring about the cold in the room, Harry jumped out of bed and headed for the window. "You must be insane, Ron, there's no way Voldemort's going to come traipsing into Hogwarts in the middle of the night." But as he approached the window, an excruciating pain in his forehead seized him, causing him to drop to the floor, just short of screaming.  
  
"Should someone go get Madam Pomfrey?" he heard Seamus ask, his voice trembling with fright.  
  
"Do you want to?" Dean shot back, his voice as equally shaky. "I'm not going anywhere."  
  
Harry stood up, ignoring the bursts of agony exploding in his forehead. "Forget it," he muttered, half-crawling to the window. Outside, the horror unfolded before his eyes. There were jets of green light flying every which way, creating such a blur that Harry had to close his eyes for several seconds to clear them. Masked, hooded figures were rushing across the grounds and whoops of joy and laughter could be heard from all over.  
  
Harry distinctly saw Professor McGonagall crumple to the ground when a flash of green light illuminated the sky. He gasped as her lifeless body was ignored by the running figures behind her. More hooded figures, but these ones weren't masked. Harry knew at once that they were Dementors. He watched in terror as several more members of the Hogwarts staff were tossed about, many obviously dead, including tiny Professor Flitwick, whose small body lay forgotten on a sullen part of grass.  
  
"So where is he?" Harry asked, his mind still wracked with grief. "Where's Voldemort? If his Death Eaters and the Dementors are fighting his battles for him, where is he?" Hysterically, he got to his feet and stumbled towards the door.  
  
"Harry, no!" Neville cried, but Harry ignored him and flung the door open, entering the hallway. He looked over the railing into the common room at the frightened group of students that had gathered there. Many were crying already, with the belief that they would not walk out of Hogwarts alive.  
  
"Where are you?" he screamed, waving his arms frantically. "Where the hell are you? You want me? Come get me yourself, you lazy moron! Fight your own damn battles!"  
  
A hand on his shoulder made him spin around as he prepared to stare into those red slits of eyes, but instead he saw Hermione's tearful ones. "Stop yelling," she hissed at him. Her eyes were red and swollen and she looked tired. She had obviously been up for hours. "Do you want to draw him here?"  
  
"Maybe I do," Harry replied in a voice of such nonchalant that he surprised himself. "Maybe I want him to come and kill me and be done with it. That way he doesn't raid the entire school, killing innocent people, looking for me!" Flitwick's lifeless body flashed across his mind and he felt the tears begin to leak out of the corners of his eyes. "It's just not fair!"  
  
"Harry, he's going to raid the school whether you're dead or alive," Hermione argued, rising to the dispute. "Don't give him the satisfaction of handing him something that he's worked so hard for, not after seventeen years."  
  
Harry stared at her a moment. It was as if he had never seen her before. Hermione looked truly defiant, something she had never done in the entire time Harry had known her. Ron came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder.  
  
"She's right you know," he said softly, wiping away his own frightened tears. "He's going to take over the school, like it or not. Don't give in to him."  
  
"What am I supposed to do?" Harry wailed, crumpling beneath the heaviness of the situation. "I can't fight him. I'm not that strong!"  
  
"Yes, you are," Hermione argued again, kneeling beside him. "You've done it many times before, come face to face with him and won. You can do it again."  
  
"That was when Dumbledore was alive," Harry answered, tears sliding silently down his cheeks. "That was when I had faith. Now I just don't care."  
  
A loud bang emitted from the common room beneath them and several people screamed. That bang was followed by a series of loud bangs until a flash of red light followed by purple sparks blinded everyone. When their eyes adjusted again, they witnessed two of the masked, hooded figures enter the common room. Harry felt himself go faint and prayed that he wouldn't pass out.  
  
Two girls were screaming hysterically in the common room, clutching each other for comfort. "Kill them," wheedled one voice, the voice that Harry knew belonged to Lucius Malfoy. The other figure nodded and in a maniacal laughter that Harry knew all too well, shot a jet of green light at the two girls, killing them instantly.  
  
"I'll search down here," Malfoy said, "and you search upstairs, Bella." The two figures split up and began hunting around the common room while several students downstairs managed to escape through the hole that had been blasted in the wall by the intruders.  
  
Upstairs, Hermione was whimpering and Ron was cowering in the corner. Harry, however, sat rather still, afraid to move, yet really not caring what happened to him anymore. "Kill me and spare the others," he pictured himself saying to Malfoy. Yet giving him the satisfaction of taking his life just wasn't the way he wanted to leave this world. So he remained quiet in the shadows.  
  
Bellatrix's footsteps lurked ever closer until Harry saw her masked face appear around the corner where he was hiding. She moved to take off her mask and grinned wildly. "Found him!" she called in a singsong voice. "And some friends, too!" Her gleeful tone angered Harry as he remembered how she taunted Sirius before he died.  
  
"Leave them alone," he warned menacingly, stepping forward out of the shadows. Her eyes drank him in and how he had grown since she had seen him last.  
  
"Little Potter isn't so little anymore," she cooed. "It looks like you grew up. You're not a baby anymore."  
  
"Nothing gets past you."  
  
She shot him a dirty look. "Mind your mouth, Potter, and come with me. I'm taking you to the Dark Lord so he can take care of you. But what shall I do with the others?" she mused.  
  
Malfoy appeared around the corner. "Oh, let me take care of those two," he said, pulling off his own mask. "I've waited years to finish off a Weasley and now I'll have been able to finish off two in one month! What a treat!"  
  
Suddenly, Hermione began to scream, high pitched and loud. She continued for several long seconds before both Malfoy and Bellatrix made a move to silence her. When they moved out of the way, Harry and Ron dove towards the open dorm room door on the other side of the hallway.  
  
"Move, Hermione!" Ron cried desperately, pausing at the doorway. "Now!"  
  
She stopped screaming and darted for the door but the scene began to slow down and play in slow motion. Bellatrix shouted, "Avada Kedavra!" and a stream of brilliant green hit Hermione in the back. Her eyes frozen, she fell to the ground in a lifeless heap.  
  
Rooted to the spot, Harry felt like screaming himself. He could tell by the way Hermione's eyes had rolled back in her head that she was dead. Sorrow and grief entranced him, but he managed to pull Ron in and shut the door before Bellatrix and Malfoy got in.  
  
"What the hell just happened?" Dean swore coming up behind them. He motioned to open the door, but Harry stopped him.  
  
"Don't," he warned, his voice shaking rather violently. He sat on his bed before trying to recall the entire story to his fellow dorm mates. When he broke it to them that Hermione Granger was dead, Neville's eyes filled with tears.  
  
"No!" he fought. "She can't be!" He stood up and went to the door.  
  
"Neville, no!" Harry shouted, standing and hurrying to Neville's side. Neville already had his hand on the door, but Harry's prevented him from turning the knob. "I know it's sad, Neville; she was one of my best friends. But whatever you do, don't open the door." Quietly, he put his ear to the window and listened to the silence. "I wonder where they went."  
  
"I hope they die and rot in hell," Ron said, his first words since he had returned to the room. He was sitting on his bed beside Dean with his head in his hands. It was obvious he cared a lot about Hermione, maybe more than he originally let on.  
  
Harry nodded. "I hope they do, too." He took a deep steadying breath. His concern wasn't so much where they had gone, but where they were going to turn up next. 


	6. Conditions

After what seemed like hours, the sun finally rose, casting light on what would normally be considered a glorious day. Outside, the grounds were littered with debris from the night's battle. Bodies still lay on the ground but Harry couldn't bring himself to look at their faces; he didn't want to know who was dead.  
  
Ron remained silent and sullen until he drifted into a troubled sleep. Dean and Seamus were talking silently, shooting furtive looks around the room every once in a while. Neville was curled up on his bed, muttering to himself every few moments. And Harry remained rooted to the floor by the door, waiting for a sign of the Death Eaters return.  
  
"Maybe you should open the door and take a peek outside," Dean said softly when the clock in the room struck eight. "It's been quiet for quite some time. Maybe they've left."  
  
"Of course they haven't left," Harry replied. "I'm still alive, aren't I?" But he got up and quietly opened the door an inch. The hallway outside was empty and in a state of shock, Harry stepped out into it, wondering where Hermione's body had gone.  
  
"I knew it wouldn't be long, Potter," drawled the voice that Harry knew all too well. He had heard that voice in his nightmares for years. "I knew you'd come out eventually. I've always said it would be your curiosity that would get you into trouble one day."  
  
Harry turned slowly to face Voldemort. He looked more arrogant and pompous than ever and Harry felt the sudden urge to strike out at him. Instead, he kept his mouth shut, wondering how he could make a wild dash back into the room. Not that that would stop him. Voldemort would simply break down the door.  
  
"What do you want from me?" Harry whined, not intending to sound so childish. "I've never done anything to you."  
  
"Not that you know of," the Dark Lord replied, closing in on his prey. "For you see, Harry, you've always been my enemy. I could have started from the beginning to make you my equal, my partner, but your parents were too good, too wholesome. I knew you were going to be trouble for me, and I tried for years to rid the world of you. Now, your time has finally come. No one can save you now."  
  
"Harry, are you out here?" Ron's head poked around the side of the door and his jaw dropped when he saw the scene that unfolded before him.  
  
"Move!" Harry screamed, diving for the door. Before Voldemort knew what had hit him, Harry had shoved him out of the way, run into the dorm room and slammed the door, locking it behind him.  
  
"If locking doors did anything, we'd be out of here by now!" Seamus hollered from his bed where he was cowering. Voldemort's voice was bellowing outside the room.  
  
"You can't run from me, Potter! This is it!"  
  
Neville let out a soft moan from his bedside. But the flash of red light that illuminated the door failed to open it. Harry heard Voldemort groan on the other side. With his ear pressed to the door, he was able to hear the conversation between Voldemort, Malfoy and Bellatrix.  
  
"Did you two kill someone here?"  
  
"Yes, my Lord."  
  
"Who was it, Lucius?"  
  
"The girl, my Lord."  
  
There was a moment's pause. "Did it ever occur to either of you that the reason I could not touch Potter after my very first attempt to kill him was because his mother gave his life for him?"  
  
"Yes, my Lord." Harry could hear the defeat in Malfoy's voice.  
  
"Then why on earth did you kill the girl when you knew it would have the same effect?"  
  
Bella spoke next, but her voice was shaking. "My Lord, we didn't think."  
  
"Clearly."  
  
"I am sorry."  
  
"Don't start now. When you killed that girl, she gave her life for Potter in front of this very room." His voice dropped lower and Harry pressed his ear tighter to the wood. "I cannot enter this room. I cannot harm him as long as he stays in there. So now it is up to you two to lure him out here so I can finally kill him!"  
  
"Yes, my Lord."  
  
"Don't screw this up."  
  
"We won't, my Lord. I am truly sorry."  
  
Harry sat back from the door on his knees. His mind was reeling with the reality of the situation. As long as he was in this room, Voldemort couldn't touch him. As long as he remained within these four walls, he would be safe.  
  
He glanced around the silent room. Dean and Seamus had quieted their conversation and were sitting on their beds. Ron was shaking with the prospect of being in Voldemort's presence. And Neville was sitting on his bed, his hands wrapped around his knees, which were drawn up to his chest, and he was rocking back and forth, muttering furiously.  
  
How long could Harry stay in this room? 


	7. Even More Ridiculous Attempts

Night fell that evening without another word from either Voldemort or his Death Eaters. Harry didn't know whether this was a good sign or not. Normally, he would turn to Hermione in such circumstances. His eyes filled with tears as he thought of her absent body. How he missed her. He missed her wisecracks, her knitted hats and scarves for the house-elves, her incessant recital of Hogwarts: A History; he missed it all. He even missed the way she would annoy he and Ron about their schoolwork.  
  
Harry had explained the situation to the others shortly after recovering from his surprise at the door. Ron had simply nodded and said, "Fine. So we'll stay here." But Seamus was much more realistic.  
  
"How do you plan on surviving in this room for so long?" he questioned irritably. "And just how long is so long, exactly? One week? A month? A year? Four years? You-Know-Who didn't stop trying to kill you before, Harry. What makes you think he'll give up now?"  
  
Harry knew what Seamus was getting at: Voldemort wasn't going to leave until the world was rid of Harry Potter so why not save him a whole lot of trouble and unnecessary deaths and just go out there and fight like a man?  
  
But Harry's reasoning was different. He was remembering something that Voldemort had told him in his first year. If he just gave up and let himself be killed, his mother would have died in vain, for she gave her life for his. Same with Hermione. Her death will have been unnecessary for he gave up the fight so willingly. And he knew it was no use fighting with Voldemort. He had fought him for too long.  
  
"I'm not giving up," he informed the others. Ron nodded his approval but Seamus simply shook his head.  
  
"You'll get us all killed," he muttered. This brought a boiling anger to Harry's temples. How dare Seamus blame this all on him? He didn't ask Voldemort to take over Hogwarts. He didn't convinced Voldemort to kill him. How could this be his fault?  
  
"You're wrong, Seamus," he said, struggling to keep his temper under control. "The only ones that are going to get killed are those who don't know how to keep their mouths shut."  
  
Seamus' eyes glowed with a white-hot anger but he kept his own temper cooled, choosing to discuss the current situation with Dean in a hushed voice.  
  
The other boys slept on and off during the night but Harry remained awake until the early hours of morning. "We made it through the first day under Voldemort's attack," he thought to himself as he watched the sun rise outside. The grounds was bathed in sunlight and slowly, one by one, the other boys began to stir.  
  
Ron sat up and emitted a loud yawn that Harry thought was incredibly over-exaggerated. He knew that Ron had barely slept a wink more than Harry had and here he was, pretending he had just slept the most restful night in his life.  
  
"I think I should send an owl to my gran soon," Neville said softly towards mid-day. Harry had been magically transporting food and water into the room using his mind (a trick Albus Dumbledore had taught him only two years ago; transporting one object into another room using only your mind) but he warned his friends to eat the food scarcely.  
  
"You can't send any owls, Neville," Ron scolded as he shoved another muffin into his mouth. "The whole network is being watched."  
  
"Right."  
  
Harry couldn't help but feel sorry for Neville. He lost so lost, alone and scared. He wasn't the bravest kid in their year but he had done well so far. Harry didn't want him to lose it just yet.  
  
"Seamus, I said drink the water sparingly!" Harry reprimanded, wrestling a goblet away from Seamus' lips. "Once these supplies are gone, we're done for a couple of days. It's exhausting moving all this stuff up here." He put a hand to his forehead where his scar was throbbing painfully.  
  
Seamus gave him a withering glance and made a wild grab for the goblet. "Of course, perfect Potter. Wouldn't want to upset you."  
  
Dean finally spoke. "Seamus, when did you become such a prat? Seriously! After all Harry's done for us, bringing this food up," he flashed a smile at Harry, "and all you've done is nag at him. Without him, we probably would be starving away by now."  
  
"Without him, we would be well on our way home by now, not worrying about whether we're going to live to see the next day!" Seamus exploded. "It's him that You-Know-Who wants! Let's just push him out the door and see what happens."  
  
Ron's eyes were glowering and so was Harry's temper, but Harry just wanted to keep calm. They couldn't fight because if they all started arguing, the entire inner circle would fall apart and then they would be no use, fighting together from the inside. Harry opened his mouth to say so but Neville's voice cut off his thoughts.  
  
"Do you hear that?"  
  
The five boys went silent listening to the sounds outside the door. It sounded like people talking and scuffling noises. Then there was a huge bang that made Harry jump two inches off the floor.  
  
"What was that?" Ron cried, jumping to his feet. "Are they trying to get in again?"  
  
"Rather stupid, aren't they?" Dean said, looking somewhat amused. Another bang echoed throughout the room and the door began to glow a violet shade. "It didn't work the first time, so naturally, it must work the second. Could you get much thicker?"  
  
Harry was able to smile genuinely at the idea of Voldemort, the world's most feared wizard of the age, being so dense. He watched as the people outside the door tried spell after spell to open the door. These acts continued for the majority of the afternoon and well into the evening. The door had ranged from violet shades, to green, to yellow, to neon pink and back to violet again before the racket finally stopped. Someone outside the door let out a volley of curses (immediately followed by profound apologies) and then silence reigned.  
  
Harry felt exhausted from lack of sleep and the transportation of the goods from the downstairs kitchens. As his friends drifted off to sleep for the second night under Voldemort's attack, Harry started to worry that maybe he was putting his friends in danger. He had already lost Hermione her life; if he surrendered, would Voldemort be satisfied? Would he leave the castle and let the rest rebuild their lives? Should he give up? 


	8. Travelling

The boys didn't awaken until nearly noon the next day. Harry's first thoughts were to find out what was going on in the rest of the castle but the others started grumbling that they were hungry right away. During the breakfast course, Harry confessed to Ron his feelings from the night before.  
  
"Don't give up, Harry!" Ron encouraged, dropping his water goblet onto his empty plate. "You can't! That's just what You-Know-Who wants! Don't give him the satisfaction. You'll win this thing, I just know you can."  
  
Harry was content with the extra vote of confidence but was still concerned that he was only leading his friends into danger. But he had other things to share his mind's occupancy as well. The room was becoming stifling hot and almost unbearable to live in. That morning had greeted them with raindrops the size of bullets and the mist from outside, mixing with the dampness, kept clouding up the window. Neville sat on the windowsill, wiping the fog away from it every once in awhile, staring out at the grounds like he'd rather be anywhere but here. Harry couldn't blame him.  
  
"My gran will be worried," he kept saying. "All our guardians will be worried when they find out the school has been taken over by You-Know- Who. They'll come looking for us."  
  
"No, they won't, Neville," Harry assured his friend, but he wasn't so sure himself. What if Neville's grandmother and Seamus' parents came looking for him? Dean's parents were Muggles and probably wouldn't hear of the news until Dean told them, but they were bound to worry why their son wasn't home from school yet.  
  
Ron suddenly looked concerned. "My parents! They flipped when Percy, well, you know. What if they come to fight You-Know-Who themselves? They'll never last!"  
  
Harry found it rather silly that they were just thinking of this several days into the attack. He shook his head, knowing fully that if the Dursleys got word of what was happening, they would be outside the window, cheering on Voldemort. "I'm sure they won't panic," Harry tried to reason. "But we can't send owls! You know that. And the nearest fire is in the common room and I don't know about you guys, but I'm not traipsing down there just to talk to someone when Voldemort could be lurking in the shadows!" He stopped, his instant rage coming to a cool, while his friends looked at him in surprise.  
  
"Okay," Ron replied meekly, sitting on the bed. Harry sighed, feeling immediately regretful over his explosion but he was just so damn worried. There were so many 'what ifs' running around in his head. What if Voldemort found a way to break down the door and killed his friends before killing him? What if the Weasleys, as well as many other worried parents, came to find their children and got killed themselves? What if, what if, what if? The thoughts were driving Harry mad and he hated to think that he could be the possible downfall of everyone close to him. He knew he had a choice to make, and the sooner the better. He waited until everyone was asleep that evening to take the chance to sneak outside the room.  
  
The hallways were dark. Wearing his father's old invisibility cloak (he doubted that the cloak would fool Voldemort for very long so he had to move quickly) he hurried down the stairs and out into the common room. He was desperate to see what state the rest of the school was in, although he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know.  
  
Outside the common room was silence. The Fat Lady had left her portrait, possibly forever, so Harry took great care in placing a single sliver of a wooden stick in between the portrait and the hole so he could get back through. As light as air, he tiptoed through the hallway, amazed at how dark, depressing and dreary the castle seemed. Hogwarts had always been a place of happiness, but in the past month had turned into a place of desperation and tears. Harry hated to see the sad walls and empty portraits; it was like a very close friend was dying and there was nothing he could do.  
  
Standing in the deserted hallway, he debated where to go. The world always seemed like his and his alone when he wore the cloak and tonight was no different, although there was a dark pall hanging over his head, knowing that Voldemort could attack him at any moment from any shadow. He might even be on his way over now. But Harry was tired of fighting; he wasn't scared of death.  
  
Slowly he began creeping in the direction of Professor McGonagall's office, figuring that Voldemort had taken up headquarters in the Dumbledore's old office. (Although Professor McGonagall would have been the new Headmistress after Dumbledore, she had never taken over his office.) The hallways became more eerie as Harry walked and pretty soon he heard voices heading in his direction. He froze immediately, afraid of what was going to come around the corner.  
  
Three Death Eaters marched around a dark corner, muttering angrily to themselves. "Damn that Potter," one hissed. "If he would just show his ugly face, we could be done and out of here by tomorrow!"  
  
"Patience with baby Potter," snarled another and Harry recognized it to be Bellatrix Lestrange's voice. "We wouldn't want to upset precious Potter, now would we?"  
  
"I don't care, one way or another," shot the first Death Eater that spoke. "As long as we get to leave soon."  
  
"Patience is a virtue," slimed the voice of Lucius Malfoy. "Always patience with the Dark Lord, for he will reward us for it." He stopped speaking and turned suddenly in the direction of Harry's covered figure. His eyes narrowed and he glared into the darkness, like he was searching for something.  
  
Harry's breath caught in his throat. This was it. He had stepped over the line. Why hadn't he just stayed in the room? Why did he have to be nosy? He held his breath for fear that any little noise would make Malfoy jump to attention and start hollering for Voldemort.  
  
Malfoy continued to sneer into the darkness until he turned back to the other Death Eaters. "Thought I heard something," he muttered, glancing back into Harry's corner before the three of them walked away. As soon as Harry was sure they were out of sight, he let out an incredible sigh of relief. What a close call that was. He began sneaking down the hall again, in the opposite direction of the Death Eaters, soon coming upon the door to McGonagall's office. Peering through the tiny window in the door, Harry saw that all the surviving professors were being suspended in air by a massive blue, shimmering sphere. Gasping aloud, Harry watched as their heads lolled around with the motion of the moving orb. Their closed eyes made it seem like they were sleeping but Harry was unable to make out any breathing motions. Terrified for his teachers, he tore the door open only to hear a loud buzzing sound being emitted from the bluish sphere. He rushed to the side of Professor Sprout whose usually flyaway hair was being held in place by the huge globe, but he kept his hands away from the mystical object, afraid that it would do even more damage if he touched it.  
  
So this was where all the professors were. Harry watched, spellbound, as Snape's head hung almost lifelessly, and marvelled at the fact that he really was on their side. He never had been on Voldemort's side, not since Harry had been at school. But a lot of good it did them now, with Voldemort in the castle, biding his time. But where were the rest of the students? Was the same force holding them captive?  
  
"Who left the door open?" someone said out in the hall and Harry's blood ran cold. A Death Eater peeked around the corner of the door and shrugged. "It wasn't me, but no one's in here." He shut the door with a bang, leaving Harry scrambling for a way to get out of the room with the eerie blue light. Frantically, his mind raced with fear. If Voldemort came to check on the professors, Harry had no doubts that he would be able to detect Harry's presence and that was a scene he would much rather avoid for the time being.  
  
Walking around the room, he noticed what looked like an old, antique mirror on the desk. Stepping up to it, he saw not his reflection, but a misty covering. Only once before had he come across a mystical mirror and that was the Mirror of Erised. Could this be a smaller version of it? Picking it up in his hands, Harry screwed up his face and imagined finding the other students and getting them all out alive and well, his heart's deepest desire. When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to see, not himself taking all Hogwarts students out of the castle, but four separate sections on the mirror, each displaying a House common room. Harry gasped as he saw the students sitting around, many of them crying. Except for the Gryffindor common room, there was not a soul to be seen there. But Harry recognized many of his fellow Gryffindors, including Ginny Weasley, scattered throughout the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff common rooms. Only the Slytherins seemed to be enjoying themselves.  
  
So this mirror didn't show you your heart's desire, it showed you whatever you wanted to see at that time. Screwing up his face again, Harry pictured the Weasleys and upon opening his eyes was greeted with a sobbing Mrs. Weasley. Although there was no sound, Harry could tell that she was hysterical. Mr. Weasley was pacing around the room, making a feeble attempt every once in a while to calm down his wife before continuing his pacing. Harry felt an immediate surge of guilt. Ron and Ginny should be home with their family, not stuck here under Voldemort's reign of terror. This was all his fault. How could he be so selfish as to want to live when so many of his fellow students were suffering? What was his death compared to the hundreds that had already been lost? Voldemort didn't care; he just wanted Harry dead.  
  
Looking up, Harry figured enough time had passed for him to sneak back out into the hallway. Taking one last look at the haunting figures suspended in air, Harry said a silent prayer for them and hurried back out into the darkness, double-checking to make sure that his invisibility cloak was wrapped tightly around him.  
  
Back in his dorm room, Harry felt torn. Should he give up and spare the lives of the countless others in the castle? Or should he fight for his life, making Hermione and his parents' deaths seem less senseless, if that was possible? He was so torn between the two thoughts that he soon turned to tears and buried his face in his pillow to stifle his sobs so not to wake his friends. 


	9. Here and Now

Morning came quicker than Harry would have liked, especially since the dream he had the night before. Wiping the sleep out of his eyes, Harry recalled the way Hermione, Percy and his parents stood in a giant doorway and told him that everything would be alright. They were making motions with their hands, as if to say, "Come with us," but Harry couldn't be sure. To his left was Hagrid, Professor McGonagall and a few other figures that Harry had never seen before and to his right was Professor Dumbledore, smiling gently at him. "It's okay," he encouraged and Harry had woken up with a start. As painful as it was to him, he knew that he had to choose soon.  
  
The boys were quiet for most of the day, having run out of things to talk about. Harry decided it would be best if he not say anything to Ron about his outing the previous night. Ron would be angry and upset that Harry would do something like that, especially without him, and Harry felt he didn't need to test anyone else's tempers. Seamus was still being short with him and even Dean and Neville had taken to turning their backs whenever Harry even so much as glanced their way. He knew they blamed him as well and he couldn't blame them for doing so.  
  
"I want out," Neville stated towards mid-afternoon. He was sitting on the windowsill with his arms wrapped around his legs, his knees drawn up to his chin. He had been rocking back and forth for quite some time, but finally stopped to reveal his statement. "I need out. Now."  
  
"I know, Neville." Harry sighed. "We all do."  
  
"You don't understand, Harry," Neville said simply, turning to him. "I need out. It's not so much a want anymore, not a desire, but a need. And you can't refuse that of me." He stood up but once he reached the door, his tough exterior faltered and he retreated back to his windowsill, leaving Harry with his thoughts once again.  
  
He knew that Voldemort wouldn't have the door guarded during the day if it wasn't guarded at night. Why that was, Harry couldn't be sure. If Voldemort knew him as well as Harry knew Voldemort, then he should know that Harry would be curious enough to sneak out at some point and check up on the others. And he had done so successfully, quite content with the fact that they seemed okay, despite being locked up in their common rooms all the time. The image of his floating teachers haunted Harry all day until night fell again. He came close to blurting it out to Ron a few times during one of their seldom conversations, but stopped himself just in time. There was no point in going there.  
  
When darkness fell, it seemed to be a cue for the boys to fall asleep. Harry didn't care about time anymore; time had no effect. Whether it be four in the morning or two in the afternoon, time had lost all meaning for him. All he knew was that come darkness, he was going back to that office to check up on the others and make sure they were alright. He had been conjuring up food and water all day long for his roommates; if he needed, he could conjure up sustenance for the rest as well.  
  
When Neville finally fell asleep, Harry escaped from the dreary room, amazed at how dull at lifeless their lives had become. If he had to continue living like that much longer, it wouldn't be worth it. What kind of life was it when the best part of your day was laying down to go to sleep so you could escape the horror of being awake and living for 12 more hours? It simply wasn't worth it and Harry was determined to find a way out for him and his friends soon.  
  
Back to the office he travelled, careful not to make any sounds and not to run into any Death Eaters on the way. He arrived with no qualms and was searching for the mirror when he heard a sound at the doorway. He looked up quickly to see Ron staring, open-mouthed, at the suspended teachers.  
  
"Ron!" Harry's voice was sharp and Ron jumped a foot off the ground. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I can't see you, Harry!"  
  
Harry lifted the corner of the cloak. "Get under here, quick! Before someone sees you!" Ron ducked under the material and stared in wonder at his friend. "Ron, what are you doing here?"  
  
Ron looked somewhat sheepish. "I was stirring when I saw you leave the room and I decided to follow you and see where you were going. I was worried," he confessed. Harry felt his anger melting away.  
  
"That's nice, Ron, but you shouldn't be here," he told his friend sternly. "Are you certain no one saw you coming here?"  
  
Ron nodded, his eyes wide. "Positive. I just wanted to know what you were up to. Besides, I was getting so incredibly sick of that room." He made a face like he had just taken a bite out of a lemon.  
  
"Right," Harry said, distracted with looking for the mirror. "Just as long as no one saw you."  
  
"Mr. Harry Potter, I knew you'd return."  
  
Harry froze at the voice and looked at Ron. Ron looked absolutely petrified and was staring in the direction of the door where Voldemort stood, just as fearful as ever. Feeling exceedingly vulnerable, Harry's frantic mind tried to form a way to get back to the room where Voldemort couldn't touch him. You couldn't Apparate or Disapparate inside the grounds at Hogwarts (Hermione's banter was useful sometimes) and there was no other way to magically get upstairs in a short amount of time. Maybe, just maybe, if they were quick and conniving, they could dart past Voldemort in the doorway and make it to the dorm room in time.  
  
Voldemort advanced towards the desk and Harry tore the invisibility cloak off of them. It was of no use now. Voldemort shook his head and clicked his tongue. "How clever," he sneered, "using an invisibility cloak. Didn't you realize that I am entirely too powerful to be fooled by such a blatant use of material?"  
  
"How did you know I was here?" Harry asked, feeling unafraid. He could feel Ron shaking beside him and had the sudden urge to push Ron towards the door as soon as Voldemort was completely out of the way. "How did you know I'd be back?"  
  
"Silly boy." Voldemort smiled. "I know everything that goes on in this castle. I saw that you came here last night and I knew that you'd return tonight. That's one of the advantages of this nightmare that bonds us together." He was almost out of the way. As soon as he took two or three more steps into the room, Harry would shove Ron.  
  
"Well, congratulations," Harry said sarcastically, mentally urging Voldemort to move faster. "You've foiled me. Now what? You going to kill me?"  
  
There was that ugly smile again. Voldemort snapped his spindly fingers and waited a mere moment before five Death Eaters appeared at the doorway. "Kill the spare," Voldemort instructed and Harry heard himself scream. He wouldn't lose Ron the way he lost Cedric Diggory three years ago. It just wouldn't happen.  
  
"Run, Ron!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. "Run as fast as you can, up to the room and don't stop until you get there. Damn it, Ron, run!"  
  
But Ron seemed rooted to the spot. Just as one of the masked Death Eaters raised his wand, Voldemort stopped him. "The boy's right," he said thoughtfully. "Don't kill the spare. He could be useful."  
  
Harry stopped struggling against himself. "What?"  
  
Voldemort was smiling cruelly and viciously now. "Yes, he will be of some use to me. You see," he turned to face his Death Eaters, "as we learned three long years ago, the wands that Harry Potter and I own share a core: a single feather from a phoenix, the very same phoenix that was owned by our very own late and great Albus Dumbledore." Voldemort lowered his head in a mock prayer and Harry felt a rush of blood heat his anger. "As we all know, brother wands will refuse to work against each other properly. Mr. Potter and I could never duel properly due to this fact." He turned on Ron and lowered his face to inches above Ron's. "Do you have your wand, boy?"  
  
Ron whimpered and Harry laughed aloud. "Are you daft?" he asked. "Using Ron's wand won't help you! It only works for him."  
  
"That's exactly my plan," Voldemort said, turning back to his followers. "See, I will inhabit the body of Potter's young friend here and take control of his mind, a wonderful way of getting what I want. Then, lo and behold, I will use Potter's friend and his wand to rid myself of Potter once and for all."  
  
Harry felt frozen, much like Ron looked. Could that be done? He had to get them out of there and quick, but the five Death Eaters in the doorway were a poor match compared to Voldemort. He had to take on one of the two choices; but which one? Frantically, his mind raced with thoughts; distract them. But how? There was nothing else to say: he was going to die that night and he shouldn't prolong it. But he didn't want to admit to it, either. His poor confused brain was shutting down slowly, with the grief of losing so many at once and of his past and of his bleak future that could end at any time. He watched, unconcerned, as Voldemort seemed to sink into Ron's body. Ron's eyes changed to a scarlet colour and his voice became high and demanding.  
  
"No matter what," he ordered the Death Eaters, "do not interfere. I want to take care of Potter all on my own. This is to be my victory, sweet to the very last drop."  
  
He raised his wand and Harry shut his eyes, preparing for the worst. Then, reality sunk in. Voldemort had told the Death Eaters not to interfere, NO MATTER WHAT. How interesting. Just before Voldemort struck, Harry dropped to the floor and rolled out of the way. Grabbing his own wand out of his pocket, he jumped up and took aim. Choking out the curse words, he watched as Ron's body flew back against the wall in a jet of blue light. Running towards the door, Harry shot curses at the Death Eaters, knocking them out of the way as he went. Unable to turn back, he continued to run towards the common room, hopeful that Ron hadn't knocked out the sliver of wood Harry had so carefully placed there upon leaving.  
  
Thankfully it was still there, but Harry paused at the entryway. Voldemort would expect him to go here. And so what if Harry survived another night? Voldemort would surely kill Ron for failing to kill Harry while in his possession and then what? Harry would be without his two best friends in the world and would continued to live out his days trapped in a room with three other boys who were beginning to hate him. No, it just wasn't worth it. The words, "Neither may live while the other survives," rang in his head. Who says that it had to be Voldemort that killed Harry? Why couldn't he kill Voldemort? There was no prophecy that said great Harry Potter would be the one to die; it was all up in the air. But tonight it came down to the facts: Harry had to kill Voldemort tonight if it was the last thing he ever did.  
  
Spinning on his heels, he marched back out into the hallway. "Come out and fight like a man!" he screamed into the darkness. "Damn it, you've waited seventeen years to get me, now come kill me!"  
  
There was a rustling to his left. Instinctively, he jumped to his right, knowing the patterns of Lord Voldemort. Right on cue, Ron's body jumped out from the shadows. "Harry, it's me," he said softly and Harry squinted into the darkness.  
  
"Right," he said. "Five minutes ago you were being possessed by Voldemort and now he's left you."  
  
Ron nodded. "He knew you were going to run here so he left possession of my body."  
  
"Without killing you?"  
  
Ron's eyes flickered and Harry raised his wand. Suddenly, Ron tossed his head back and emitted the most awful howling laugh Harry had ever heard. The voice was high pitched and agitating again. "I should have known that Harry Potter was too good, too great to fall for a trick like that." Voldemort's eyes glowed red in Ron's body. "Did you say you wanted to play, Potter? Well, I got news for you." His voice grew darker and his eyes, deadly serious. "Playtime is over. You're going to die."  
  
Harry dodged three curses in a row, for after each one, Voldemort swore loudly. Feeling hatred and anger boil his blood as he dodged behind suits of armour, which were tossed off course as the misdirected targets of the hateful curses being thrown about the castle, Harry continued to run, shooting odd curses over his shoulder whenever he thought of it. He had a plan; get Voldemort to the room at the top of Gryffindor tower and he could kill him from in there. Voldemort couldn't touch Harry while he was in that room.  
  
Harry heard Seamus scream as he flung open the door and burst inside. Ron's body made a move to follow Harry but it was as if an invisible force shielded him from the room, tossing him back several feet on to his back.  
  
"What happened to Ron?" Neville questioned, watching as Ron stood up and began inspecting his body. "Why can't he come into the room? Where's You-Know-Who?"  
  
"That is You-Know-Who!" Harry hollered back. "Now Neville, get out of the way!" He aimed his wand at the mystified Voldemort, who was still inspecting Ron's body.  
  
"Why can't I get through?" Harry heard Voldemort's voice ring in his head from the hallway. "I'm not in my body. Surely the force cannot detect emotional traits?"  
  
"Guess again," Harry thought to himself, closing one eye to get a better aim. He only had one good shot at this curse so he had better make it count. But before he could shoot, Ron's body wavered like a wave and he crumpled to the floor. Voldemort unfolded into his long, lean frame, causing much panic and commotion in the dorm room.  
  
"He can't hurt you, as long as you stay here!" Harry yelled over the noise. Seamus was running in circles, obviously panicking and Dean was lying on his bed with his hands over his eyes. Neville was whimpering in the corner of the room, rocking violently. "Just don't leave the room!" Harry continued to bellow.  
  
Outside the door, Voldemort approached Ron's slow-moving body as he tried to heave himself up from the floor. "Well, well, we do have a weakened little boy, don't we?" Voldemort sneered, picking Ron up by his elbow. "Potter, what do you say we do about this?"  
  
Harry ran to the doorframe, reluctant to leave his sanctuary. "Leave him be," he ordered and Voldemort laughed his high-pitched cruel laugh. "I mean it."  
  
"Leave him alone," Voldemort mocked, shaking Ron's limp body fiercely. "Don't touch him. Leave him alone. What makes you think I'll listen, Potter? I haven't listened for seven years, why would I start now?"  
  
"Because if you leave him alone and let him come in the room, I'll willingly give myself up," Harry said, searching desperately in his sorrowful mind for a way out of this. Part of him just wanted to give up. He had run a long enough race; there was no reason to drag out the inevitable. Yet another part of him was arguing ferociously, telling him he was still in the game, fair and square and not to give up or lose hope.  
  
Anticipation flickered in Voldemort's eyes. Harry could practically read his thoughts: Is he telling the truth? Will he give himself up? Voldemort smiled a wicked, vicious smile and stepped back from the door, taking Ron with him. "Okay," he said softly. "You step out first."  
  
"Harry, no!" Seamus' frantic voice filled the room behind Harry. "I didn't mean what I said before! Don't give up! Don't let him win! He's sneaky, he's conniving and he won't let Ron go when you leave the room. Harry, please, don't do it!"  
  
"I have to," Harry stated simply, with an apologetic glance back at his friends. "I'm sorry." He put one foot out into the hallway, feeling the warmth of the room leave him like he was stepping out of a steamy bath. However, he seemed somewhat reluctant to move his other foot.  
  
"Come on, Potter, I haven't got all day." Voldemort was glaring at him hungrily and greedily, waiting to pounce. He still held Ron by the scruff of his neck and Ron's head was lolling from side to side, much like the professors Harry had seen. If it wasn't for the soft breathing Harry could see of Ron's chest, he wouldn't believe that his best friend was still alive.  
  
Finally, fearing the consequences no more, Harry put both feet outside the room and instinctively raised his wand. Much to his anticipation, Voldemort released Ron only to float into vapour and sink into Ron's body, causing Ron to stand upright, looking around wildly. When his eyes landed on Harry, he grinned madly. "Yes," he said slowly, "finally. You promised, Potter, and you've made the last one for a long time." He raised his wand at the same time Harry did.  
  
"Avada Kedavra!" Their two voices echoed throughout the hallways, followed by two short screams. Both crumpled to the floor, a greenish mist floating above Ron's body before it disintegrated into nothing. It was over. Finally, after seventeen long years, it was over. 


	10. After Days

The wind was cruel for such a bright day in April. She walked along the rows of graves, her footsteps crunching over the few leaves that had drifted off the trees from last night's storm. The wind lifted her hair from her face, making the stones much easier to read.  
  
It had been three months since the news had come of her nephew's death. Although she despised his presence, she couldn't stop the tears from flowing the moment she was alone. Granted, the Potters were a weird bunch, but they were still her sister, brother-in-law and nephew. She raised Harry Potter from a baby; he had become like a son to her. Now as she visited his grave for the first time since the funeral, she couldn't help but feel bad that she had never had the chance to tell him she loved him.  
  
It had been a horrible story. There were hardly any survivors. Harry, along with his friends, had been killed in the terrible attack that was forced upon that school that he went to by the same monster that killed her sister and brother-in-law. But he, too, was dead, for good this time. None of the children survived. The blast that killed Harry and the monster also killed those on the same level as them. There were five bodies accounted for. Numerous others were found in other secret, hidden rooms, having starved to death. It was painful and too horrible to think of.  
  
She knelt at the tiny stone that read, "Harry Potter, seventeen-years old. Remembered for his bravery and final capture of all that is evil in the world."  
  
"Not all that is evil was captured," she thought as a lone tear escaped down her cheek and off the end of her bony nose. Death still existed in this world, a world where her seventeen-year old nephew could be snatched from underneath her nose, only because she never took the time to appreciate him like she wanted to. She could never explain to her husband and son the gaping hole little Harry Potter had filled in her life. They would never fully understand why she sat, crying so openly, over a boy everyone thought she had hated. Pressing her face to the cold granite, she said a silent prayer for the fallen boy before standing back up and brushing off her dress.  
  
The sun shone behind her as she left the cemetery and the open road ahead of her glistening with the light. Petunia Dursley was certain she would return before long. 


End file.
